


Born Again

by Matrya



Series: Names of the Damned [1]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matrya/pseuds/Matrya
Summary: Fingernail dirt and other passing thoughts. // Liam was reborn, April 1753.





	Born Again

**Author's Note:**

> A fifteen minute fic about found places.

The air had a taste.

In his years before—before Darla, before death, before rebirth—Liam had never noticed that air tasted of things.

After, he noticed almost immediately. The crispness tasted of cold as soon as the dirt was gone from his mouth. Darla replaced it with her own taste—blood and girl, mixed into one—and Liam was less curious about the taste of the air.

Not uncurious altogether, however. He savored the differences between the cold night and warmer day, empty nature and fearful people. He loved that taste in the air, heavy and shy of sour; like good food or better ale.

Darla made air taste of desire, something Liam was endlessly devouring. When they would corner an innocent young man, the air around them would taste of that same Darla-desire and the boy's heavy, heady fear.

He would clean his hands of them, as he had of first his grave and, later, his human ties. There were more things on Earth than he dared to dream and he knew that the two of them would see it all. They would taste every inch of the world that had before been beyond his reach or comprehension.

She was his savior in that, his own angel despite herself planting that moniker upon him. It would take no time at all to taste blood and air from east to west. He had no time to stop and think about how,  instead of just jumping and following wherever Darla led.

Until her Master, that was. Angelus had no patience for the relic, hated the taste of him that invaded his every space. He despised the taste of vampires knowing fear around the ancient disappointment. He snarled at tasting Darla's own fear in the air.

He had rid himself of his father and the Master was her own, so they must rid themselves of that tie, as well. The two of them were too grand, too great, to let the livid bat be a tether to this kind of formality and pomp.

Liam had shed that life through drink and pleasure. Angelus would shed Darla's pomp through sheer force of will if it would be the death of them both.

It hardly ever came to that kind of dramatic finish, of course. Darla was not difficult to lead; Angelus, as had Liam, always appreciated a beautiful woman in his shadow. Alls the better if a spurned man nursed his wound in their wake.

They would travel, go on, taste the world on tongue and air. Angelus would learn more than Liam had ever dreamed. Darla would invest herself, thoroughly. They would find family in terror and wretchedness, in pain. The two of them were bound by blood and eternity, no matter what else came or who else, at that.

Angelus knew that, until kingdom did come, he was going to have Darla. They were going to have the whole wide open of creation on their side and for their pleasure.

It was better than to be God.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and critique are all very much appreciated. If you want to chat, hit me up at [my tumblr](http://matrya.tumblr.com)!


End file.
